


Blue Amnesia

by FabulousMe4333



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Amnesiac Dream!SMP, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghostbur knows, Headcanon, Interesting concept?, please give feedback
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousMe4333/pseuds/FabulousMe4333
Summary: “You’re in l’Manberg.” Tubbo arched an eyebrow as he answered.Dream blinked. “What’s l’Manberg?”A soft breeze sent ripples in the grass as it rustled nearby branches. The sun beamed down, setting gradually as red and orange slowly painted the sky, tainting the buildings in a golden hue. The air was cool against Tubbo’s cheeks as he caught Ghostbur glancing towards the woods, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding his glance.“W-what do you mean?” Tubbo gave a nervous giggle, but his eyes were firm and stern as he looked down at the older, who gave him an earnest stare. “Dream, you’re joking, right?”“Dream? Is that my name?” Tubbo searched for any sign of amusement, any hint that he was joking. However, all he found within those emerald eyes was a transparency and innocence Tubbo couldn’t stand to be underneath, and so he broke their gaze.Tubbo felt bitterly cold. “Y-yes, that is your name. Do you not remember?” The prospect was not a welcoming one, and for some reason he was petrified by what this could mean. His headache had grown into a splitting one, and Quackity’s words were beginning to be screamed into his mind, blocking out any other thought. An amnesiac Dream? Oh god.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 204





	1. Nothing But Blues

**Author's Note:**

> *IMPORTANT* According to the events of the Dream SMP. Include heavy spoilers! Please watch the various streams and support the amazing streamers/youtubers/actors/script-writers/participants of the Dream SMP before reading. ALL characters mentioned in the fanfic will be referring to the characters which they roleplay, including SMP!Dream, the main focus of this fanfic, hereby referred to as only Dream. The reader is to be reminded of this passage throughout the story. Now, enjoy!
> 
> *IMPORTANT* Will include spoilers all the way from Before Tommy to the Vengeance Era, just after Technoblade and Tommy’s second alliance. Please watch the various streams or stream highlights before reading for a better understanding of the story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blues - feelings of melancholy, sadness, or depression.
> 
> "A lot of people here are very sad, now these blue, they start out transparent and then they sucks away your sadness and it turns blue, and then what you can do, what you can do is you can throw the blue away and then all your sadness will be gone."

Tubbo’s P.O.V 

Tubbo closed his eyes as he hummed a cheerful tune, enjoying the company of the soft buzzing of bees around him. His yellow and brown striped shirt camouflaged nicely as he collected some honey, finding a rare moment of peace and silent as he stuck a finger into the golden goo, a sweet, sticky taste left smudged on his face while his bee slippers tripped about briskly on the soft grass. 

He sat down with a jar of honey in the middle of all the blossoms and fluttering wings, a content smile making him look younger, more like his age, a silly kid goofing away a hazy afternoon instead of a president of a nation destroyed twice. The title had worn him, tired him, drained the bright blue in his eyes. A certain person and a certain compass drool into his mind, but Tubbo shook them away almost guiltily, wishing nothing more but to be relieved of his responsibilities and act as childish as his age just this once in the safety of the walls of his bee house. His back on the ground, the smell of warm soil around him and sunshine splashing through the glass, he heaved a deep breath and opened his eyes to the roof, which was transparent and allowed him to see a blue sky and lazy clouds drifting about, so slowly and luxuriously that Tubbo almost envied the white masses that passed time with such carefreeness and ignorance of everything below.

He was suddenly interrupted by a series of rude tapping against the window of his paradise, and slightly annoyed he lifted his head toward the direction of the sound to find a messy nest of brown hair and a yellow sweater peeking in, gesturing to him to come outside. Ghostbur. Tubbo sighed, his eyebrows twitching every so slightly, betraying a frustration and impatience bubbling just beneath his skin that contradicted his good-natured persona. 

Hauling himself up, he cast a longing gaze back to his bees and his honey, to his moment of peace and his escape from reality, from all the trouble and problems, from presidency and all its responsibilities and work, before peeling his eyes away and stepping out, shutting the door behind him. “What is it, Ghostbur?” He asked, trying to keep his discontent from shaking his voice. 

“Well you see Tubbo,” Ghostbur was his normal, ghostly pale self as he drifted towards Tubbo with, like usual, his words breathed out in a soft, almost inaudible and slightly quivering way. “there might be a slight problem. You see, Tubbo, Dream is here, just over there.” Tubbo stiffened. Quackity’s words from the Butchers Army ringed in his head as his grip tightened uncomfortably, his fingers digging into his palm.

Ghostbur continued, “And I don't know what’ s up with him, Tubbo, but he’s just sitting there, not doing anything at all. And I went over there to say hello, but he didn’t answer me, and that’s the problem we might be having here, Tubbo, for Dream is usually very friendly with me, and today he’s just rude, ignoring me like that, and-”

“Where is he?” Tubbo asked, interrupting as he looked around, his eyes darting about almost frantically. 

Ghostbur bites his lips, looking rather uneasy. “Well, it’s rude to interrupt me, but he’s over there.” He pointed at a field of grass next to his bee house, where, as Tubbo narrows his eyes, he spotted Dream in his netherite armour just sitting there motionlessly, like Ghostbur described.

Cautiously Tubbo approached him. “Heyyy Dream. What are you doing here?” Tubbo called out, only to halt in front of Dream to find him unmasked. A little startled, Tubbo backed away before taking a good look at the unfamiliar face, sensing this to be a rare opportunity. The pair of emerald eyes were dull, hollow and empty, the mouth slightly open. “Woah. Well what’s up with him? And what’s up with the face reveal” Tubbo said, hands on his hip, as Ghostbur poked the inanimate man with a stick.

“Is he dead? Will he become a ghost, like me? What will we call him then? Ghost Dream?” Ghostbur asked beside Tubbo, floating around him,“ Oh I know! We can call him Daydream! ’Cause he died during the day and he looks like he’s daydreaming right now!

“Helloooo?” Ignoring Ghostbur, Tubbo waved his hand in front of Dream, who remained silent and still. “Dream?” Tubbo practically shouted into the man’s ears. Still, there was nothing.

“You just found him like this?” Tubbo, turning to Ghostbur, asked. A headache was brewing in the back of his mind, so Tubbo wanted no more than to solve this Dream issue and go back to beekeeping. 

Ghostbur nodded. “Yup.”

“Well, it’s not like anything horrible will happen if he’s just sitting here, so let’s just leave him be…” Tubbo said, about to turn around before catching something flash on the edge of his vision. Suddenly, Dream’s eyes had flickered, and something stirred within the emerald eyes before Dream finally moved, wincing, blinking hard, and groaning a little as he scratched his head. 

“So he _was_ daydreaming!” Ghostbur cried, clapping his hands a little. 

Tubbo kneeled down beside the man, who looked like he was freed from a long trance, “You okay, Dream?”

“Where am I?” Dream suddenly asked, looking around. Without his mask Tubbo could see a hint of alert amidst the confusion clouding Dream’s expression. There was a spark of panic, too, that glistened in his eyes, which Tubbo did not understand.

“You’re in l’Manberg.” Tubbo arched an eyebrow as he answered. _That’s a weird question_ , he thought to himself as Ghostbur picked with his nails, looking more and more uncomfortable. _Is Ghostbur sick? Can ghosts be sick?_

Dream blinked. “What’s l’Manberg?”

A soft breeze sent ripples in the grass as it rustled nearby branches. The sun beamed down, setting gradually as red and orange slowly painted the sky, tainting the buildings in a golden hue. The air was cool against Tubbo’s cheeks as he caught Ghostbur glancing towards the woods, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding his glance. A faint fog clinged to the forested ground several tree rows in, the faint sunlight refracting in the suspended moisture to set it aglow accompanied by a fresh puff of air with hints of nightly chills. 

Yet Tubbo could pay attention to none of that, not the beautiful sunset, not Ghostbur, not how cold he was beginning to be in his beekeeper outfit.“W-what do you mean?” He gave a nervous giggle, but his eyes were firm and stern as he looked down at the older, who gave him an earnest stare. “Dream, you’re joking, right?”

“Dream? Is that my name?” Tubbo searched for any sign of amusement, any hint that he was joking. However, all he found within those emerald eyes, once hidden behind a ceramic mask carved on it a monotone, taunting smile, was a transparency and innocence Tubbo couldn’t stand to be underneath, and so he broke their glance. 

Tubbo felt bitterly cold.“Y-yes, that is your name. Do you not remember?” The prospect was not a welcoming one, and for some reason he was petrified by what this could mean. His headache had grown into a splitting one, and Quackity’s words were beginning to be screamed into his mind, blocking out any other thought. _An_ _amnesiac_ _Dream? Oh god._

Dream’s P.O.V 

There were images and voices flashing before him. Shouts, screams. Thunderous clashes of explosions, of TNT. Two discs, one green and the other purple, cached forever in chests and not to be played in a music box.

“So, as the king of dream SMP, which, that’s what you are, and have been.” The voice sounded oddly familiar.

A dialogue ringed in his head, the voices cracking and contorting. “Yeah”

“What do you think gives you power?”

He has never felt the dread drain his body, the drumming of his heart collecting in his throat as his eyes darted frantically into the darkness behind him, searching desperately for the source of the voices, listening fearfully for those haunting footsteps. 

“If respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in your back, respect is nothing, right?” 

A seething breath to the back of his neck, a snap of a branch from his side and the sensibly he felt the sharp edge of a blade pressed against his pulsing neck. He tried to scream, but the air was frigid and silent, and his breath was taken away as he turned around and there was nothing. Dream could hear **him** approaching, could hear an axe hissing as it split the ground. Panic flared as he stumbled back, and a rock was there to bump his heels and knock him out of balance, tumbling onto the floor to scramble back up. He found himself cleaning to every word, his eyes blinking in and out of a trance as a shadow flashed before him.

His heavy chest tried to hold his breath as he clenched to the point the jaw started to hurt. Everything flashed like a shadow, as if he were in a nightmare, his body refusing to awaken. Something told him to calm the turmoil of emotions, to try and think but his body was too tired and too pained to listen to command. His eyes shuddered as he took breath after breath like it was never enough.

“You don’t have power because of your crown, you have power because of me.”

It was beckoning him, taunting him, challenging him to stand up, to run. And run he did as he tripped over his steps, not remembering how he stood up on such shaking legs. Heaving quivering breath his lungs burned and his legs throbbed, yet he kept running, his sweat joining the biting wind, bushes and branches swept by him as he moved, slicing open his pale skin, allowing rivets of crimson to trickle down his uncovered arms and legs but he couldn’t feel, couldn’t care. Drops of blood splashed onto the ground, staining the brown and green a dark red color.

He started to slow down, his breathless gasps coming out harsh and cold. Bending over slightly, he grasped his chest, only now feeling the cold burning of his lungs and the rapid pounding of his heart. For a moment he forgot why he was here, a feeling of blankness washed over his mind and for a moment, just a moment, everything was okay.

Then the pain came.

Hissing, he sunk to his knees, gripping his torn arms. Falling to his knees, his arms trembling as something wet rolled down his cheeks, drenching the soft grass beneath him. Despite the stinging pain, despite everything, he kept running. He couldn't breath as a hiccup escaped his throat but he knew he had to keep running. His legs felt like lead bars, heavy and useless. Cramps were forming deep in his sides as well, muscles tired from the excretion and exhaustion but he didn’t care. Closing his tired eyes, he struggled to allow his body to rest. He felt as if he would never be able to move again. With a light groan, he laid down onto his wet back, staring up at the treetops high above. He was suddenly with dread, without pain, without anguish, and he felt numb. Rubbing his face lightly, he tried to erase the dry sweat-tracks from his skin, ignoring the fact that he was smearing blood onto his face.

“Just remember where your power comes from, because it doesn’t come from a pretty little crown, it comes from an axe and a shield.”

It was suddenly behind him. Dream felt cold, biting wind shrill against the shell of his ears. Fear blurred his senses and panic turned into voices shaking him, screaming at him. A ceramic mask, one smiling so mockingly, peaked down upon him, and an axe was lifted above his head. He shut his eyes, waiting for the splitting pain.

Then suddenly, **he** was gone, and so were the voices, so were the images, a flag slashed and torn to pieces, a crown cracked and abandoned, an axe tainted with crimson stains. In their place was a neutral, serene, vacant blue. And so Dream laid in the midst of the oblivion until the silence became unbearable, a crushing weight to his chest.

And so Dream tried to find the memories again, searching deep into his mind to dig up the voices and the scenes that had scared him so much before. If it meant there would be company, he was willing. 

His time in that vacuum was endless, as slowly his will to keep searching exhausted. Occasionally he would succeed, however, and he would be able to remember a thread of a sentence, a shimmer of a face.

Yet these moments were short. Too short for him to grasp, to plea for it to stay only to let it slip through his fingers like specks of dust, like grains of sand in a wild gust, too quickly for him to take a breath, for him to smile, for him to blink. For his breathing to calm, for his chest to rise and fall without the feeling of an unbearable weight suffocating her, without that dreadful, taunting silence drowning him, blurring his eyes. 

He drifted in the limitless blue until all the memories were gone. Until all he had left were emotions. The feeling of power coursing through his veins, of adrenaline urging him. The bittersweet taste of victory, combined with the hoarseness of his throat from breathing in dust and gunpowder. Happiness, in the form of laughs and jokes. Anger. 

Sadness. Blue.

He remembered until he forgot that as well, until there was nothing but the blue and him.

“Helloooooooo? Dream?”

Ripped from his blissful numbness, Dream was startled at the sudden voice. His surroundings fizzed as he jerked from his curled up position. The blueness that filled the void around him sputtered and flickered out of existence, leaving him in darkness. 

“So he _was_ daydreaming!” Someone said. A rush of relief returned to Dream to hear voices again.

Harsh gasps broke the cemetery silence of the void. Dipper lay prone and wheezing after the universe dumped him on the frosted grass floor. Long shed leaves and needles stuck to his damp clothes and face. A thin fog and sap resin a weak salve on the razorblades shredding his throat and lungs with every breath. His heart pounds in his chest as if to break ribs and burst his eardrums. His skin and muscles buzzed as if struck with pins and needles.

“Are you okay Dream?”

***

“Do you not remember?”

“I- Ugh.” Dream tilts his head to the side then back again, as if the motion would shake the memories back into his mind.

Of course he remembers. There were bunches of faces, people he’s met and befriended, talked to and laughed with. It was difficult to make out the details though, as words turned into nothing but an incomprehensible buzz and faces but a blur of color. And of course he remembers his own name. 

“Dream.” He repeated, trying out the sound. It felt wrong, an ugly taste of rot left at the tip of his tongue. It didn’t sound like his name. Yet however much he tries, there was no other name that fit more. 

None that he can remember, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Dream SMP fanfic, so please no hate. Please leave comments and feedback if you like it, and enjoy!


	2. Best Friends Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap likes jokes and pranks. Sapnap also likes his friends. Sometimes his pranks upset his friends. But if they're not friends, that's not a problem anymore, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please remember that all names would be referring to the Dream SMP!characters being roleplayed. Don't send hate to any of the actual youtubers/twitch/people!

Sapnap’s P.O.V

Slightly tanned skin shone a bronze colour underneath the sun as a white bandana flapped in the air around black hair. With the back of one hand Sapnap grazed the walls of the tunnel leading to the Community House, melancholy glistening in his eyes. He strolled slowly down the road, crouched underneath his shield with axe in hand, netherite armour a mesmerizing purple. 

Sapnap had been surprised to receive a note, one messily written and with many crossed out words smeared and dotted with ink. It communicated one blunt message, one too simple for him to overlook all the red flags, if a letter from the president of l’Manberg to meet in the Community House wasn’t suspicious enough. After all he might be stubborn, but he wasn’t dumb.

Slowly he walked down the Prime Path, eyeing the house that had been the first structure on the SMP, built by eight of the original members with laughs and jokes. He remembered messing around, remembered how it felt to goof around without overthinking everything. That elation he used to feel standing beside his friends, the excitement of waking up to another new day filled with adventures. That was long in the past, though. So much has changed, for the better or worse. A tremble on his sealed lips betrayed him at the thought.

That doesn’t matter now. Not anymore. Tubbo had said this was about Dream, which was what had attracted him in the first place. The name hits differently after everything that’s said and done, after all the ugly things that tainted what had been so simple. 

His clouded eyes darted around him, suddenly paranoid. At the edge of his vision he caught a familiar shape lying motionlessly underneath the sun. Curious, Sapnap walked over. It was then he froze. 

A white ceramic mask. Same size, same shape. Same smile. He has seen Dream’s actual face so sparingly that he seldom remembers him without it. It was just a literal part of the green, hooded man, a signature look along with his fingerless gloves and gleaming axe. 

Sapnap picked it up, a turmoil of emotions washing over him. A horrible, dreadful thought screamed over his rationality, and so he followed it, letting it hasten his breath and grip his jaw so hard it ached a dull pain. He checked for any trace of battle, of a bright crimson splash or the rough cut of the ground. Nothing.

Slowly, a drum began to thump like the ticks of a melting clock as he searched, desperately, frantically for… for something. He didn’t know what, but he was going to find it. Some… evidence. What happened here? Is this what Tubbo wanted to talk about? He flipped over rocks, making a mess on the grass. Nothing. 

Frustration flared up as Sapnap sat down in a sulk. He clutched the mask and held it to the sun, glaring at the indifferent smile hard as if demanding an answer from the inanimate object. Nothing.

“Dream said he doesn’t care about anything on the server, so that means he doesn’t care about us, okay? He doesn’t care about us, George!” A voice shouted, and Sapnap jumped, flinching so hard he dropped the mask before turning around. Nothing.

This was driving him mad, he thought, and so he cached the mask away to the depth of his inventory and continued his way to the Community House. Ugh. Why was he doing that? Let the guy be alive or dead, so what? He doesn’t care about… about anything, right? His face quite heated, he shook away the thought like flinging away a spider crawling up his arm.

Ignoring what had happened he brushed the door of the Community House, having finally arrived. Recollecting his calm he gripped his weapon slightly harder as he worked his way up the stairs. Nothing much had changed, he noticed, eyeing the room. The chest littered along the walls had stayed the same, the crafting table and furnaces blanketed with a thin layer of dust. The base was lifeless now, dreary. No more friends goofing around. No more jokes and laughs. No more adventures. Just… stupid discs and stupid nations, stupid power and stupid…

Stupid, stupid presidents. “Tubbo, what do you want?” He called out. As there was no reply he continued upward until he heard whispers. They soon became shouting as he reached upstairs. 

“I told you, we’re not going to tell everyone, Ghostbur! I-I don’t know what to do with the guy. He’s like a dumb rock when he doesn’t remember anything. Man, he couldn’t even remember his own name! It’s going to be a disaster if this isn’t dealt with and resolved before anyone more than necessary has to know and-” Tubbo practically screamed.

Sapnap coughed, and two blue eyes were instantly on him, the shouting ceasing. “Well, if it’s a secret you’re talking about I suggest not shouting across the room about it in the Community House. I know it’s not the busiest place, but a lot of people pass around here to go to the Nether and stuff. Very easy for eavesdropping or just accidental overhearing.” Tubbo was silent as Ghostbur waved. Sapnap arched an eyebrow.

“Now, Tubbo, your note said this was about Dream.”

Dream’s P.O.V

The blond boy in a bee suit, who he learned to be Tubbo, elaborately described what happened in the afternoon two days ago. Dream heaved a quiet sigh as he waited for his cue to come out of the shadows. 

He didn’t understand the big deal. As nice as Tubbo and… Ghostbur, he thinks the pale man’s name was, are to him, they haven’t been keen on answering any of his questions. Who is he? Where is he? Who are they? What’s l’Manberg or the Dream SMP? (The name of the SMP had a ring to it, he must admit, but was it named after him or was he named after it?)

The questions ringed through his head so often yet the answers were always so vague and swift. They, especially Tubbo, were hiding something, Dream can sense that much, though Tubbo wasn’t exactly the best at hiding it. The blond boy always stiffens at his inquiries, quickly excusing himself with guilt circling his eyes. Ghostbur, on the other hand, was much more open, though it seemed Tubbo forbade the man — ghost, he was told at one point? — to be around him for too long alone.

He was growing restless, however. Frustrated. Whoever he was he didn’t have a lot of patience, and that didn’t change with his lack of memories. As he leaned closer to the source of the new voice he made out their words. 

“I know you and Dream have had your… disputes, but this is kind of a special situation. You see, when we found him like that, he didn’t remember anything. And… and we’ve tried everything we could! Mainly potions, but some activities that jostle memories too, but nothing worked! He just… forgot. And I- I…” Tubbo trailed away into a whisper Dream can’t decipher.

(“I can’t just tell him everything! He might take it badly. He might snap. He has shown no hostility to l’Manberg recently, and I really want to keep that. What if, what if he takes it differently, now that he’s learning all of this again? What if, without his memories, he’s like a different person? With the power, the resources old Dream has, what if new Dream decides to start a war? That’s disastrous, catastrophic, okay?”)

Tubbo fumbled with his words. “Which is why, Sapnap, you guys go way back right? So… it makes more sense if you’re in charge of him. You know, answer his questions, do what you think is best… just don’t-” Dream beamed at the sentence. Some answers, finally!

“Wait! He doesn’t remember anything? Like,  _ anything _ anything?” He heard the newcomer, Sapnap, gasp for the first time during Tubbo’s monologue. There was a hint of mischievous amusement in his voice, which was somewhat familiar, like all things, the glint of a prankster planning a trick.

“Right, and he’s just over there…” Before the words even left Tubbo’s mouth a face was pushed in front of Dream’s so fast he scrambled against the back of the stairs, back on the wall and hands in the air. 

A pair of dark eyes widened, studying him hard before bombarding him with questions. (Damn, he was suppose to be getting answers!) “Dream! What’s your name? What’s my name? Where are we? What’s your favourite colour? Favourite weapon?” 

Dream trembled despite himself, feeling all at once helplessly lost to hear his own questions verbally thrown at him. “I…” He began, but broke off to hide how shaky his voice was. Instead he focused on the fire log of the white shirt, then the dark sleeves, then the messy black hair and white bandana. Sapnap, he decided, had a scent of familiarity.

Sapnap’s P.O.V

He… really doesn’t remember anything? 

Sapnap gripped his hands, clutching them into fists. After everything, he just hits his head and forgets everything? The thought frustrated him, though he didn’t bother with it too much. This can’t be permanent, after all. Instead, he was more occupied with an idea that was slowly forming in his head, for this opportunity was too good to be passed off without a prank.

“I-” Dream looked like he was holding back tears as he stammered, voice devoid of his usual confidence at best and arrogance at least. Sapnap backed away a little from the green man, who was hugging himself with shaking arms. Dream cleared his voice, sniffing a little, as if regaining his composure. “Um, do we know each other? Were we… friends?” 

It was Sapnap’s turn to stammer as two emerald eyes stared at him, the face foreign but the voice more than familiar. Sapnap paused, opening his mouth to speak only to close it. Friends? That word rendered him speechless.

Friends, when the name Dream evoke nothing else but a kettle-like wheeze and an admirable skillfulness? Friends, like how they had fought alongside each other in so many battles, how he, Sapnap, had followed Dream’s every instructions so subserviently? Friends, like how they always had each other’s back, like how they stood through thick and thin, like how Sapnap always believed that no matter what, the  _ Dream Team  _ would all be together at the end of the day to goof around and laugh everything off?

Or friends like the way Dream tossed them aside like toys after recess, like assets and pawns after a game of chess? Friends, like the way he so carelessly orders them around, so dismissively give and take away everything that is theirs and make it his? Friends, until they were no longer that, until they fought and they shouted and they reached a deal that fixed everything for the future but left the past behind? 

They were so close, but what are they now? Friends? Enemies? Comrades? Pawns? 

Nothing at all? 

For Sapnap, an even more dreadful question would’ve been what they were before. Have they ever been friends? The dethronement fallout had shaken his beliefs, which had been so firm and certain before, to the core. But that didn’t matter now, he told himself like he always did. Maybe it never did, but it certainly didn’t now.

A lop-sided smile grew as his eyes widened and sparkled with a wicked, wicked glint. It was a bittersweet idea, one that sunk with his realization that Dream was for once vulnerable and struck like a seed, quickly sprouting and burying any reminiscent behind. “Friends?” He asked, excitement seeking into his voice. “Well yeah! We’re the best bros to ever  _ bro _ , man! Oh yeah, you have no idea! I got you covered, man!”

Dream’s face lit up at the news. Naive, innocent and trustful eyes beamed, stirring only a hint of guilt on Sapnap’s part. “Really?”

“Yah! I’m sure Tubbo there has done a great job, but now I’m in charge of you! I’ll answer all your questions and show you to ALL your friends and… oh! George! Man he has to see this.” A playful glee undermined the sense of wrongness. He threw a glance behind him, seeing that Ghostbur, who had been  _ dead  _ silent (Sapnap chuckled at his own pun), had drifted away from the room, leaving only a worried Tubbo staring at their direction, clearly unable to make out what they’re saying. 

“Wow, I’m so glad you’re here! I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t shown up… I really appreciate you helping me out!” It didn’t sound like something Dream would ever say, but it brought warmth anyways.

Sapnap laughed, though it was rather strained. Still, it was going to be the best prank, one Dream more than deserved. “No worries! What are friends for? I’m Sapnap, by the way.” He said as he ruffled the fluff of dirty blond hair.

“I’ll try to remember that.” Dream said in between chuckles.

A door opened as Sapnap said, “It’s fine, you probably won’t.” 

“Dream? Sapnap? Are you up there?” Suddenly, George’s face came from below, and Sapnap and Tubbo both stiffened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you like the fanfic so far!


	3. George is Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georgenotfound is found! How will the colorblind British boi react to an amnesiac American green boi?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be no pairings, so no ships, in this fanfic. I will admit, however, to have read a couple of Dream Team pairings. Due to this, there may be some slashy undertones scattered throughout the fic. I didn’t intentionally want to pair them, for I am writing this as an epic friendship or bromance, but if you want to read the story that way, feel free. I certainly won't stop you.

George’s P.O.V

Goerge tilted his glasses to the side, waiting for a response. Nothing. He thought he had heard voices. 

Curiosity drove him along with boredom. He hadn’t been upstairs for a while, and there wasn’t much better thing to do. He didn’t expect, however, Tubbo’s face pushed into his own the second he took a step up the stairs. “Uh hi Geroge! How are you doing” The blond boy cried out with a nervous laugh, blocking the stairs.

“Um Tubbo, what’s going on? Did I miss something again?” At this he heard Sapnap’s chortle, very faint but definitely sounded above them, and the sound sparked his determination to find the bottom of this. They always laughed, mocking him for his tendency to miss out big events. Not today, no sir, not today. “Let me up, Tubbo!” He urged, only for Tubbo to shake his head frantically.

“Don’t come up! Please!”

“Why not Tubbo?” Sapnap peaked his head out, waving a bit at him. There was an amusement in his friends eyes that spelled either disaster or a prank. Was this a trick?

Tubbo through a glance at Sapnap, lips sealed, as if saying  _ you know why. _ That’s it, George wasn’t leaving until all questions were answered. Sapnap, however, only shrugged with a smirk. “You said that I was in charge, after all.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. Curiosity and interest bubbled within George until it was unbearable, and he stomped his feet against the half-slabs somewhat immaturely. Tubbo hesitated before caving, sighing a bit, and without explaining went back up the stairs, George following close behind, somewhat cautiously. 

The upstairs of the Community House hasn’t changed the last time he was there, with only the walls a little dusty from lack of visits. Few people stopped by the Community House and didn’t go directly through it to the portal or l’Manberg or somewhere else. They had no reason to, after all, though it was quite a pity for the first building on the Dream SMP to be neglected in this state. Looking around, climbing up the stairs somewhat cautiously, George found nothing new or even slightly interesting about the place until…

“Look Dream, it’s our dear friend George!” He heard Sapnap say beside him, a hand on his shoulder, his eyes pinned on George for his reaction.

“We’re friends too?” The voice was almost meek, unrecognizable by how shy it sounded, but it was still familiar. A face peered out from the shadows as two emerald eyes glimmered with the purity and excitement of a child being handed a gift. George’s jaw dropped as realization sank in.

“Oh yeah! I mean, you and I are best bros, but you and  _ him _ ,” He could hear the smug in Sapnap’s voice. George couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Was this a prank? No, it had to be a prank.

Sapnap continued, “Together, we are the Dream Team! You see, we go so long back that this house we’re in? We built it, the three of us!”

“Oh wow! We must be like actual brothers, then! That’s so cool, George!” Dream - a part of him still didn’t believe it, but it had to have been Dream with that voice, that hair, those eyes - said to him, who looked at Sapnap then back at Dream, then back to Sapnap and back to Dream.

Speechless, he was, completely speechless. “Dream?” He finally said, tripping on his words, “Where’s your mask? Are you okay?”

“Well, it’s a bit complicated. I sort of… lost my memories? So I might act a little… off. It’s so good to know I have friends here to help me through this though!” Dream said cheerfully. 

Friends. The word stun him, stinging the memories of tears, of shouts, of crowns. George winced, and he caught the look of alert at the corner of Sapnap’s eyes. 

“Tell me you hate me!” He had said, his crown heavy over his head, as Dream announced his dethronement, taking away his title so easily and leaving him so helplessly upset. That smirk Dream shined him as he handed it back to Eret, as he turned his back expecting George to accept it peacefully. That egotism, as he said almost sweetly that it was all for the best, that George was safer as he left him with nothing, nothing but lies and empty words. 

George mumbled out, “Dream, I don’t know what Sapnap told you but-” His voice faltered, fading away there. Were they friends…? 

He didn’t get to finish that thought. Immediately, a rough hand grabbed his collar and he turned to see Sapnap, his face all serious, shouting to Tubbo who stood in a corner. “This is great, George. Hey Tubbo, I have to talk to George real fast, you mind watching Dream for a second? Thanks.”

And like that he was pulled downstairs, a safe distance from Dream and Tubbo, but it wasn’t until they were outside the Community House that Sapnap turned around abruptly, clutching George’s shoulders tightly and bringing him so close their noses almost touched. “YOU WILL LET ME HAVE THIS.” Sapnap roared, his playful mannerisms gone. “Out of anyone, George, to think you will spoil this AMAZING prank…” 

“Listen Sapnap, I know you think this is funny, and it might be a little bit, but what if Dream remembers everything in like… I don’t know, a week? We were only on neutral, almost talking terms, and I… I don’t know.” George rubbed his neck. He didn’t like ruining the mood. It would be… pretty funny, he guess? He wasn’t about to laugh about it right now, though. “Dream wasn’t exactly friends with everyone on the server, you know.” His voice quieted there, though he could tell Sapnap was barely listening.

“I know! That’s why it would be the funniest thing if everyone pretended that he was!” Sapnap cried out, and George knew there was no changing his friend’s mind. 

“George is right. This is wrong and can only end badly, especially if more people know about this!” They turned to see Tubbo walking towards them, gesturing at l’Manberg and then at the whole SMP. “We don’t want another war.”

Sapnap pouted. “You’re thinking way too much about this. Just look at the guy. Dream’s been a prick recently with the whole disc thing and the power thing, but doesn’t he deserve he have the right to be happy and goof around a bit too? How’s he going to do that if he’s being mean to everyone? Plus, he’ll remember everything again in the blink of an eye. And who knows, this Dream’s a decent guy.”

“Uh… well, we don’t know for sure when-”

This only made George feel more conflicted, and he held a hand to his chin as Sapnap turned to him, interrupting Tubbo. “You wouldn’t want to ruin that for him, George… would you?”

There was a creak, and the three of them all looked up to find Dream looking down with the widest grin, holding two ribbons in the air and waving them crazily as he shouted out enthusiastically, “Hey! George! Tubbo said you like the color blue, right? I’m making a blue bandana for you and a green one for me so we can match Sapnap! What are you guys talking about down there anyways?”

“Fine. I won’t say a thing.” George sighed as he muttered, taking in the innocent twinkle in Dream's eyes that revealed how completely and blissfully ignorant he now was, and Sapnap smirked.

  
  


***

It was a mistake, George knew, as soon as his eyes glanced across the lines of the invitation.

He didn’t know the scale of which Sapnap’s plan was going to be, yet he agreed to it anyway. Dread drained his entire body as he flipped close the envelope, which was decorated in the colors of the l’Manberg flag.

L’Manberg was holding a festival, the first one after Schlatt’s. 

And instead of Tubbo being the star of the show, 

Dream was.

And even though George wasn’t there, even he, along with everyone on the SMP, knew what happened to Tubbo last festival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a short chapter, but what happens next is such a huge leap from this that a cliff hanger is very necessary. Plus I wanted to upload 2 chapters in a day. Will have a longer chapter next time and will update soon!
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos so far, another reminder that all names are referring to the Dream SMP!Characters, not actual people. Thanks for reading and please comment if you liked it, enjoy!


	4. Three Invitations, Two Masks, Two Reasons and One Spar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat of an interlude before the actual plot, but it gives you an idea of the two very different reactions of two different people far from l"Manberg who received the same invitation as George. Also, a long chapter of sort of filler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you read the chapter there would be some mention of Dream speedrunning or Technoblade's potato war, which technically isn't included in their canon characters. The names are still refering to their canon character and somewhat of my version of the Dream SMP characters. Just... just don't bother the actual people please, don't send hate, watch their stream, support them they're amazing.

Technoblade’s P.O.V

Technoblade grunted, flapping his pig ears lazily in the air as he put away his weapons and prepared for bed with a yawn. It was then that he spotted a pale figure outside, and had he been anyone else he would have jumped. But no, as he was Technoblade, he didn’t even flinch as he arched an eyebrow at Ghostbur and opened the door for the man. He always deemed manners a valuable quality and social skill, unlike some green man who loves to intrude his house.

“Technoblade!” He sighed a little bit at Ghostbur’s usual, slightly whimpering voice, so soft it was hard to catch amidst the enderman noise behind him. Tommy was away currently, for the boy raccoon said he was visiting the ruins of Logstedshire or something, and he was hoping for some peace and quiet. For a ghost, as muffled and gentle his voice was, Ghostbur doesn’t always seem to know when to stop talking or when he had outstayed his welcome. “ I’ve got an envelope for you that Tubbo told me to deliver! For some reason he wouldn’t do it himself, like he did with everyone else on the Dream SMP. There’s one for Philza too, and one for Tommy.”

Technoblade’s interest peaked a little bit, and his face brightened from its usual, faint lifelessness. An envelope from the president of l’Manberg that so happened to have tried to execute him a couple of weeks ago? Sounds like clout.

The voices, which had been so deafening it flooded over his own thoughts, all hushed at the news. Taking the opportunity Technoblade took the envelope and weighed it in his hands, just in case it was a bomb. Can never be too careful, not when you have an entire country after you for a bounty and an exiled person, who so happens to be wanted by the creator of the server, sleeping in your basement. He chuckled at that thought.

It was featherly light, and so he opened it while the voices came back, hurrying him. A letter was inside, which Ghostbur took and started reading out loud. “Dear Technoblade. I know we’ve all had our differences-”

“Perfectly adequate description of trying to publicly execute me and stealing all my armour and weapons” Technoblade added, making Ghostbur chuckle a little before he continued reading. 

“-but a special turn of events has occurred, one so major that it is fair to say that the past can be put away as the past.” 

Ghostbur paused for the suspense. “Dream, who we all know for different reasons and have different history and interactions with, but despite so can all agree plays a key role in the past, present and future.”

“I mean, the SMP is named after him, what did you expect?” Technoblade interrupts again before peaking over Ghostbur’s shoulder, glancing down on the long letter. “Awwww man I have to read all this?” Technoblade groan. His 3 minutes attention span and ADHD can’t take this for that long!

With a quick dash, Technoblade seized the letter, his pupils dancing between the words swiftly before he basically slammed the letter down on the table. He clapped his hands together, put them against his nose and then pointed them at Ghostbur as he heaved a deep breath. “Wilbur, I will need you to confirm this, cause I speed-read this like Dream speedrun Minecraft but like much faster. Anyhow, speaking of Dream, they’re telling me that Dream’s got amnesia from hitting his head on a rock or something, and now the whole server is going to troll him by pretending to be his friend. Also, l’Manberg’s having another festival, which they are inviting me for, where there would be a wonderful opportunity for everyone to meet up, completely exploit the man’s new brain condition and prank the heck out of him. Is this correct?” 

Ghostbur gave him a blank stare before chuckling nervously. “Y-yah, basically. Are you, um, thinking of going?”

“Sounds like content. And clout. Hopefully Quackity won’t try to kill me, though he did die to a pickaxe, so there should be no worries. Why not?” Technoblade shrugged, turning away. “Well, thanks for the delivery Ghostbur, you can see yourself out. Good night.”

Well Tommy is going to be very loud when he hears this, he thought before drifting into sleep.

  
  


***

“TECHNOBLADE how could you not tell me this MAN when where how Dream forgot everything and l’Manberg is having a festival and what the heck! This is just too much at once!” was screamed into his ears, abruptly ending a nice dream of farming potatoes. Technoblade clinged to the warmth of the sun on his back as he carefully cupped a pile of dirt and studied the green sprouts as it all fades away. Nooooooo, his number 1 potato position and his three potato wars!

The pig king was awakened by the noisy fuss of a complete child at the rose-pink light of dawn. Rubbing away winks of sleep he sat up to find a blue-eyed maniac jumping around the house, in his hands the same l’Manburg invitation he read seemingly seconds ago. A glance was tossed at the clock. It was too early, he decided, for his moments of peace and quiet to be washed away by the raccoon who decided to barge in unannounced. 

“Good morning to you too.” He grumbled in reply, completely ignoring Tommy, who was waving his arms around in excitement as he went to check the weather outside. It was going to be a clean sunny day, perfect for brewing invisible potions so he could check on his dogs in l’Manberg, maybe troll and kill a couple of bystanders - there’s no evidence, after all, if there’s no eye witnesses. 

“I’m running out of golden carrots more than ever now, thanks to having to brew twice as much as necessary for myself.” Technoblade flipped through all the chests before concluding. “Guess another trip to the nearby village. Maybe I should kidnap one home. That should be fine, his neighbours won't even notice he was gone.”

Still fussing, Tommy turned to him and practically screamed, like a child usually does, “No no no no no, we don’t have time for that! L’Manberg’s having a festival, Techno, and we’re invited! Ranboo’s gonna be there, and Fundy, and big Q, and… oh, and Tubbo! He did say that the past is going to be left as the past, at least until the whole Dream thing is over, so that means…!” Technoblade nodded, humming a little as he tuned out completely, before getting his cloak and his boar mask and preparing to push open the door.

Tommy immediately blocked it, slipping between the fresh outdoor air and Technoblade. The child stared the pig down, and they stood like that for a moment, before Tommy looked away from the empty eye sockets of the boar skull, which Techno has been told to look somewhat intimidating. “Come on Techno! This is great! Maybe we’ll get your armour back! Plus, this is a lot of clout for you, right?”

“You’re right, but the festival is tomorrow. Today, we’re brewing potions, kidnapping villagers, feeding dogs, trolling Ranboo, and the list goes on!” He marked his steps onto the white snow, though it was so similar to a pig’s that no one could track him that way. Tommy, who trailed behind sulking, had boot prints that were much easier to recognize. Technoblade sighed as Tommy kept on talking.

“I know, but a day is not a lot of time to prepare for such a big event, you know. Wait a minute. If Dream lost his memories, then it would be easier to get the discs back! Yes! Okay, invisible potions, villagers, let’s do this Techno!” If only all this enthusiasm were directed to anarchy, Techno thought, shaking his head, though he kept walking in the direction he last remembered the village was in.

Tommy’s P.O.V

With the previous elation completely buried by the repetitive sound of snow crunching beneath his feat, Tommy looked around them and found nothing but endless fields of whiteness. The sun is almost setting. They’ve been traveling for hours, though they did get slightly sidetracked because Tommy wanted to kill a bunch of pigs and eat pork in front of Technoblade, but that’s not the big deal. 

The big deal was the ego of the man, who’s long pink strands and glimmering crown were all he could see of Technoblade’s face, and his complete stubbornness to admit defeat. “Yes, it’s around here.” Technoblade said just as Tommy had the thought.

“We’ve been walking for hours!” Tommy cried out, not believing a single word. 

“Well if someone didn’t slaughter a couple of fine, happy pigs, we would have arrived already!” Techno turned around, throwing him a glance. “Plus, are you doubting my abilities?”

“Yes, I am!” The pig only frowned at his response before continuing walking, his head held high. Tommy kicked the snow before groaning. “Look, I think we can all agree that we’re lost.”

Tommy continued, a sense of pride blossoming. “Luckily for us, I’ve got a map (stolen from Dream).” At that Technoblade stopped, hands crossed as Tommy reached into the depth of his pocket, “It should be right here-”

“-huh?” He shouted so loudly that it echoed through the plains. In his hands was a drawing of the currently amnesiac green man, his ceramic mask smiling back at him as if Tommy was pranked. 

The same bastard that had smiled so sweetly as he handed Tommy the drawing while he was still in Logstedshire, “A drawing so you will always remember our friendship.”

Peaking over his shoulders Technoblade said with his monotone voice, which was as mocking as it was indifferent, “Nice map.”

“What the f*ck- Ohhhhhhhh DREAM that son of a-”

A small smile, one all too smug for Tommy to stomach, appeared on Techno as he continued sauntering ahead, his hands in the air. “Well, guess there’s no choice but to follow the human GPS…”

Irritated, Tommy shoved the drawing back into his inventory before uncurling it and studying it again. He was so focused he didn’t hear Technoblade as the pig suddenly kneels down beside a daisy bending over the snow and said, “I know this flower, we’re near.”

“Wonder what Dream looks like underneath that mask?” Tommy asked musingly.

Technobalde answered nonchalantly, though he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have to wonder. I’ve seen his face?”

“WHAT? Since WHEN?” 

Techno scanned the surroundings before looking at the orange sunset. “Yikes, it’s nighttime already, guess we’ll have to head back. Let’s sleep here first though, I have wool. Meanwhile, maybe I COULD tell the story. It would make great content. So, this happened just after my retirement...”

***

Dream’s P.O.V

“Hey, Technoblade,” he called, interrupting what he observed to be a sword fighting practice. Techno paused, looking vaguely annoyed.

“To what do I owe the honour, Dream? Are you here to talk about, perhaps, the nation that has been destroyed to the ground? Cause’ I’ve retired and-”

Dream grinned and held up the wooden practice sword in his hand, shaking his head. “No no no, I came to see if you’d be up for a sparring match.” 

“Oh?” Though Technobalde’s expression remained studiously blank, Dream thought he could detect a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Very well. I could use the practice, I suppose, since I won't be fighting actual people now.”

Dream stepped into the clearing where Technoblade had been training and gave his sword a few experimental swings, flicking his wrist back and forth lazily. “You’re still healing from the whole l’Manberg incident, so I’ll go easy on you.”

“Come on now Dream, it was just a scratch. At least make this match worth my while.” As he spoke, Technoblade brought his sword into a guard position, two hands on the hilt. Dream did the same, sliding his feet into a fighting stance. “Just don’t be disappointed when you can’t land a single hit on me.”

“Alright, but you’ve never disappointed your opponents, much less me, in a battle before.” Dream said, stepping carefully to the right. Technoblade mirrored his movements, watching him closely.

“There’s a first time for everything.” The two combatants circled one another slowly, feet shuffling on the rocky ground, each waiting for an opportunity to strike. (The opportunity to defeat the enemy is provided by the enemy himself - Sun Tzu, the Art of War) Dream kept his eyes on Technoblade’s wrist, knowing that the flex of muscles there would signal his movement first.

“Good thing it’s not this time, then!” said Dream, and attacked, lunging forwards with his sword held across his body. Technoblade surged forwards to meet him; at the instant their swords met with a loud crack of wood, Dream changed the angle of his attack to slide past Technoblade’s defense. The pig king twisted his body to avoid the hit and retaliated by forcing Dream’s sword up, then disengaging and, with lightning speed, slicing at his chest. Dream slid one foot back in a half turn and brought his sword down in time to block, gritting his teeth at the impact. He stepped backwards again to gain space, but Technoblade followed him, trying to push his sword back; Dream fell back and spun around, hoping Technoblade’s own force would knock him off balance, but he recovered in time to block Dream’s next blow. Dream leapt back from his opponent’s answering thrust and put some distance between them. A light breeze sent his dirty blond hair in waves as he took a breath, gripping his blade a little tighter.

Fast though it had been, that exchange had been a little tentative, both of them trying to gauge the other’s strength. Though it had been a while since they’d last fought, Technoblade’s fighting style still felt familiar, and despite his injury his attacks still held the same intensity and focus. But now, unlike on the battlefield, Dream wasn’t risking life and limb, and so he could afford to have a little fun. He faked a lunge and, when Technoblade moved to block, drew back and sliced at his abdomen, but Technoblade read the movement in time to block and strike back.

They danced back and forth across the clearing, exchanging rapid-fire blows. Dream threw himself into the ebb and flow of the fight, moving in time with the rhythm of Technoblade’s attacks, trying to feel the way his opponent’s momentum and weight shifted; but Technoblade was a skilled and crafty fighter, difficult to anticipate and nearly impossible to catch off-balance. Dream tried a risky spin that nearly broke through, pressed his advantage – and was foiled once again as Technoblade leapt back. 

The two combatants began to circle each other again, now breathing somewhat heavily. Sweat trickled down the back of Dream’s neck as he watched and waited for Technoblade’s move. The air held its breath as the dears and the rabbits who hopped about the snowy terrain stopped, watching intently. A shrill wind blew, and this time, finally, it was Technoblade who broke the stalemate, attacking with a brutal overhand strike that Dream barely turned aside; and with that, they were back in the fray.

Minutes passed with neither fighter gaining the upper hand. The pig had to be tiring – Dream’s arms were beginning to ache with effort, and his breath was coming in gasps – but Technoblade wasn’t slowing, forcing Dream back on the defensive. Determined not to give in, Dream dodged a strike by dropping to the ground, took one hand off the hilt of his sword, and pushed up against the ground to spring to his feet. Wielding his sword one-handed, he tried a thrust at Technoblade’s chest; Technoblade spun to avoid the unexpected attack, putting his back to Dream for a dangerous moment – Dream slid one foot forwards, stretching his arm out to make the most of his opportunity, but too late. Pink locks flashed across his emerald eyes as Technoblade’s sword came back around in time to halt the strike, and now Dream was precariously off-balance. His heart hung in place but there was no time to withdraw; Technoblade was turning to the side to strike back, and so Dream lunged in close to trap their swords between them, twisting his wrist to lock their wooden blades together. He managed to get in one hit to Technoblade’s collarbone with the hilt of his sword, and then Technoblade, who still had a two-handed grip on his own sword, pulled hard and sent Dream’s practice sword flying out of his hands, and in the next heartbeat had his blade pressed to Dream’s throat.

They both froze, panting. Technoblade’s face was so close Dream could see the beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, dampening the pink hair falling into his face. The dark eyes peeking from underneath the pig skull were wide, almost shocked – and then, suddenly, his face broke into a faint, barely noticeable triumphant grin hidden just underneath the white skull mask. The delight on his face was so genuine that Dream, with a sword at his neck, couldn’t help but slightly smile back. A little dizzily, Dream allowed himself to sit down, putting his hands in the air.

“You win,” said Dream, somewhat breathless. His mask was slopping off his face, and so he slid it to the side, allowing a puff of fresh air to cool his heated face. On the floor staring up his vision was blocked by the glinting sparkle of Techno’s golden crown, but the shadow beside him indicated that Technoblade had stepped back at last and lowered his sword with a sigh of relief. 

The pig’s ears flopped down, no longer alerted, and the eye sockets of the mask softened as Technoblade offered a hand to Dream, his voice hoarse and somewhat winded. “Good job. You did a lot better than last time.” It was then Dream realized how stiff the other’s shoulders had been, how red his hand was from clutching the handle of the sword. In the silence of the battle Technoblade had portrayed perfect calamity and serenity with just an air of humour, not a hint of the stress or nervousness betrayed until the very end. It alone deserved at least a portion of respect and admiration.

“It wasn’t bad,” Dream replied, taking the hand and sitting down next to him on a log. Sneaking a glance at the other Dream though Technoblade looked almost a little bit pleased with himself, and so he added, “Though this time you won by luck. Plus, I practise with an axe more often.”

Technoblade frowned, fangs bared before just shaking his head tiredly. Fumbling with his pockets, Technoblade asked after a few moments of just catching their breath. “I’ve got some potatoes. Do you want some?”

“What, did I leave you that tired?” With his mask out of the way a smug grin was beamed at Techno, who looked somewhat annoyed now.

“Taking that as a no.” The pig said, munching away.

Technoblade’s P.O.V

Kill him, they whispered, as Technoblade sat there. Blood for the blood god, they urged.

An netherite axe was stored in his inventory from the whole l’Manberg incident. He hadn’t found a place to store it yet. But he’s a changed man, he told the voices. He has retired from his violent ways.

They ignored his reply. Kill him. Kill. Blood for the blood god. Technoblade never dies. Kill him, kill him NOW.

Technoblade took another bite of the potato. He began to eye the axe. It was very in reach, but…

It’s for the clout, the whispers told him, though they were gradually getting louder. Canon death. Kill him now. He’s not looking.

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. It was a chant, screamed into his ears repetitively. Technoblade shut his eyes, finding them aching from not blinking during their spar, before throwing a glimpse at Dream. The guy was looking pensively in front of him, hugging his knees. Technoblade fumbled with the snow around him, trying to distract himself from the voices, trying to block them out with the sound of his chewing.

But they were getting impatient, furious. Vicious and bloodthirsty. Technoblade gave a long look at the axe, his fingers itching for the kill. Very close, his target was, too close for their own safety. Adrenaline pumped against his physical body’s will, as he was quite worn from that short fight. The voices always urged him, pushed him to seek blood and clout. He debated, scanning their surroundings. There were no witnesses, no one in miles. Dream’s friends were all too far away to help him. Won’t even notice he was gone for days. 

No one would know. No one has to know. He reached for the axe, his fingers just about to wrap around it and swing it so quickly that Dream, in his unguarded state, won’t even know what hits him- 

“Isn’t that pig mask annoying?” Dream suddenly asked, looking at Technoblade with a sideways glance. The whispers left in a puff, and Technoblade felt shaked out of his senses, finding himself clenching onto that same, half-eaten potato a little too hard.

He shrugged. “It’s not annoying once you get used to it.” Took another munch of potato, finishing it and whipping off the crumbs. “But now that you mentioned it…” He put a hand to his chin, thinking a little.

“... I was actually going to take it off.” Dream’s eyes popped, his face a funny look.

Techno felt around for the right place to slip the skull down without hurting his face. His hands brushed against the nose, the tusk, up the eye sock before popping it off. The mask wasn’t strapped to his face like Dream’s, and was more convenient to remove, if one only knows how. “Woah woah woah no way I wasn’t actually expecting a face reveal I was just- I’m actually so shocked right now …” Dream stammered.

“I have my reasons.” He simply said, placing the tusk, which was just a little worn but no less intimidating then when he was first given it, gently onto his lap. 

A teasing expression. “What, showing off your face to the world?” Dream said.

“No-” Dream’s smirk faded into a seriousness less seen behind his mask as he waited for Technoblade to continue. 

“I want the ones who have wronged me...” Techno closed his eyes and thought of Tommy, thought of Wilbur and Tubbo, thought of all of Pogtopia who he had provided armour and weapons for, thought of the entire l’Manberg, a symbol of government, who he had helped to overthrow only to have another one established right in front of him. “...to stare at me in the eyes when I defeat them.” He opened two crimson pupils and found Dream staring at him with an equally earnest expression. 

“I see.” Dream breathed out, before breaking their eyes contact and letting his emerald eyes drift somewhere else.

***

“That’s the last time I saw him without his mask.” Technoblade ended the story as he placed a hand over his forehead, blocking the sun and narrowing his eyes to glimpse a slim structure in the distance. 

“Why did you stop?” Tommy, who had been listening so quietly, screamed into the air. 

Techno flapped his hand in the air, dismissing the question while looking somewhat musing. “I guess we’ll never know why he uses it. Oh look, that’s the portal! Weren’t you so excited for the festival? Don’t want to be late for it, right?”

And with that Tommy immediately jumped in front of him, shouting nonsense around him as he sprinted towards the structure while Techno followed, walking with no haste and humming a little tune as he thought more of the memory. Amnestic Dream… either way, there was going to be clout.

***

Dream’s P.O.V

“See you later. Maybe you can come over for another spar sometime, when I’m not busy farming potatoes. Then who knows, maybe I’ll get bored of retirement.” Dream watched as Technoblade stepped away, and with a flash of pink hair disappeared into the woods. 

The fierceness of his voice, so empty of any amusement or humour, when the man announced. “‘I want those who wronged me to be able to stare me in the eyes when I defeat them’, huh?” Dream murmured as he waved in the direction the pig had gone. 

He grazed his own ceramic mask, flipping it over his face once more. A mask… he thought, thinking to himself. He thought of Tommy. He thought of Wilbur, of Tubbo, of JSchlatt, of Niki, of Fundy, of Eret. Of L’Manberg, of Pogtopia. Of the entire Dream SMP. He didn’t know at the time but soon he would think of George and of Sapnap. 

A mask, he concluded, so that the people he wronged can not see him in the eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, most specifically the last section, is copied from/inspired by Why Dream Wears A Mask [Dream SMP Comic] by Spatziline and Early Summer Rain by secondmeteor. These are the links below, please check them out; they're amazing! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ik1p5Wj0hvY&t=23s & https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142877/chapters/50318729
> 
> Long filler chapter to expand on the personality of the characters as well as their thoughts! Now back on track with actual plot and maybe some angst in the near future! 
> 
> For anyone who might be confused, the sparring part was a flashback/story that Technoblade's telling to Tommy, and the *** indicate the transition from the past to the present. Dream's last part there was him after the spar just ended.


End file.
